ars ago—after we’d heard him speak, and you and I’d spent hours talking about him. Remember how he built his final project for school? No drawings or model for him. He built it with hammer and nails. My dad says that it should be mandatory that one year of architecture school be spent doing construction. He said—” She broke off because Izzy had stood up.
“Come on. Let’s go.”
“Go where?”
“We’re going to look inside his guesthouse.”
“We can’t do that,” Alix said as she stood up.
“I saw you looking out the windows, just as I was, and you saw the place in the back. Two stories, big window in front.”
“We can’t—”
“This may be our only chance. He’s away on his fishing boat and you know that we came early. He doesn’t know we’re here.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know,” Izzy said. “But maybe when he knows a fanatical architecture student is here in this house he’ll put bars on his windows and doors.”
Alix hadn’t thought of that. “I’ll be subtle. I’ll tell him how much I admire his work and—”
“And his lower lip? Did you ever consider that he might have a girlfriend? Just because he isn’t married—or wasn’t the last time either of us searched the Internet—and because he was alone on a fishing boat doesn’t mean he’s celibate. Do you think she is going to let you in the house?”
Alix knew that what Izzy was suggesting was wrong, but on the other hand maybe he had drawings here. Maybe this was her one and only chance to have a private viewing of a Montgomery design before the world saw it.
Izzy could see that Alix was wavering and she half pushed, half pulled her out the side door and down the garden path to the guesthouse. It was tall and had heavy curtains over the windows; it looked almost forbidding.
Izzy took a breath and tried the front door. Locked.
“We can’t do this,” Alix said as she turned back toward the house.
But Izzy caught her arm and led her around the side.
“Maybe we can see his bedroom,” she whispered. “Or his closet. Or his—”
“How old are you?”
“Right now I feel about fourteen.”
Alix took a step back. “I really don’t think we should—” Suddenly, she halted, her eyes wide.
“What is it?” Izzy gasped. “Please tell me you aren’t seeing a ghost. I read that Nantucket is one of the most haunted places in the world.”
“It’s a light,” Alix whispered.
“He left a light on?” Izzy stepped back to look up and she saw what looked to be a desk lamp, the kind that would reach across a drafting table. “You’re right. Do you think he has a home studio? Now do you think we should go in?”
Alix was already at the window and trying to raise it. It slid up easily. “Andersen Thermopane, twelve over twelve,” she mumbled as she gave a jump and hoisted herself inside, leaving Izzy to get in by herself.
Once she was inside, Alix quickly glanced around. There was a dim light on in the kitchen so she could see a living room and dining area. All one room. It looked to be a nice place, but she wanted to see where that light was. She hurried up the stairs, opened the door on the right, and saw a room with windows on three sides. She knew the light would be beautiful during the day. There was an old rug on the hardwood floor and under the windows was an antique drafting table, probably from the Edwardian era. Beside it was a little cabinet, the top covered with drawing supplies. In a day of computer drafting systems, it was wonderful to see actual drawings with pencil, pen, and ink. She touched his mechanical pencils, all of them lined up by lead, from hard to soft. There was an erasing shield, brushes, and a T-square. There was no drafting machine anywhere.
To the right was a wall covered by his drawings. They were for the construction of small structures, not houses, and each one was exquisite in both concept and execution. There were two sheds, a guesthouse, a children’s play set. Three garage plans were next to sketches for garden structures. Nearly every bit of empty wall space had been covered with his drawings and draftings.
“They’re beautiful, wonderful. Magnificent,” she whispered.
She stepped back to the doorway to take it all in. The room felt like a shrine or a sanctuary. “I bet he never invites anyone in here,” she said aloud.
What surprised her was how much she and this man thought alike. She deeply believed that beauty could and should be found in the smallest object. Whether it was a soap dish or a mansion, to give it beauty was of utmost importance.